


a few unfortunate interruptions

by dickprince (ruthlesslistener)



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: (For all of you lmao), Alien Cultural Differences, Being Walked In On, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Humor, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Short drabble shot, The Pale King and White Lady don't operate on mortal social levels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthlesslistener/pseuds/dickprince
Summary: The gods of Hallownest, as it is known, do not often follow the social conventions of the societies that they rule over. The customs of ones so ancient did not often bend to the whims of simpler bugs.Unfortunately for their mortal partners, this applies to their sex lives.
Relationships: Dryya/White Lady (Hollow Knight), Lurien the Watcher/The Pale King (Hollow Knight), The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 121





	a few unfortunate interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired entirely by a joke conversation on discord that I just HAD to write. Dryya I'm so sorry lmaoooo

The first time it had happened, she had been wholly unprepared to deal with it.

She knew such a thing could happen, of course. Bedding the King’s wife in their own bedroom was sure to pose certain risks...but the Lady herself had insisted on it, claiming that the King was unlikely to walk in when he was holed up in his workshop tinkering away at another project, and that Dryya deserved to be tumbled in a proper bed rather than among the wildflowers. She had posed a convincing argument, whispering the suggestion quietly against Dryya’s neck with her beautiful blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and she…

...Well. It had been hard to resist such a wondrous temptation. Particularly when Dryya had years of experience knowing when the King was prone to go and disappear for days to weeks upon end, and when he himself had given their relationship his blessing. This was no soap opera with cheating partners and painfully-cliche love triangles; nor was it anything like the courting rites of her own people, who demanded the head of a rival before a higher-ranking female would even begin to consider someone as a potential mate. She had been given the King’s blessing quietly, with an odd sort of pride flashing in his eyes, and that was that. She guarded her Queen with her life, and in turn, he took no offense to one of his knights taking her as a mate.

...Or, rather, he took no offense to the  _ Queen  _ taking her loyal knight as a mate. There was no doubt in Dryya's mind that she was the one being kept, not the other way around.

(It was...quite nice. There was something undeniably lovely about being able to put down her nail at the end of her shift, to be held in gentle arms and know that she was safe, that she could put her guard down and relax.)

For gods, apparently, this was a routine occurrence. Or perhaps it was merely commonplace for wyrms and for roots, or her rulers had their own little brand of peculiarity that set them apart from the rest of the world. Regardless, it still made Dryya’s head spin, a lifetime of territorial hostility sharpened by social conventions putting her on edge everytime she and the King were in the same room (not with jealousy,  _ never  _ with jealousy, though sometimes she saw the way the Queen looked at him fondly and pulsed hot with the desire to inherit his longevity, so that she may grow as comfortable around her as he was in her arms), she strove to keep herself a respectful distance away from her Lady, so that the eyes of outside observers may never find something... _ curious  _ about their relationship.

Gods could do whatever they wished, of course, for they were naturally outside of the social norms and conventions, and could break them as they pleased. But Dryya was the captain of the guard, the fiercest of the Great Knights. She had a reputation to uphold, as well as the need to defend the reputation of the White Lady, and thus she shirked away from the eyes of all others others, including (much to the bemusement of her beloved) the very person who had encouraged her to pursue her in the first place: the Pale King. 

Logically, she knew that she was being overcautious. As a Great Knight, nobody but the King and Queen could damn her, and the retainers that roamed the halls of the Palace would surely turn a blind eye to anything their higher-ups did not want to see. Still, she always had been somewhat of a defensive sort, and the thought of anyone seeing her with her lovely Lady set all her hackles a-bristling. 

So when the King had made his way into his workshop, absentmindedly citing a new invention idea as an excuse for his retreat, she had thought she would have quite some time before he made a reappearance. Certainly the Queen had thought so as well, for her to have invited Dryya into bed with her, despite the risks. And she most certainly knew that the King would care not a whit for their antics, if the Lady decided to share what she was doing when he was away (as she so often did, as if she did not cradle his soul within her chest and allowed him within her mind, idle chatter engaged for the pleasure of conversation rather than the genuine need to share information.) 

Dryya knew this. She knew it very well. She also knew that he was still in the castle, and that allowing the Lady to take her to bed meant that she was risking him walking in on his wife fucking her...nor would she deny the fact that the thought of it sent an odd, shameful thrill through her, one that she would never admit to enjoying out loud.

Still, there was fantasy and then there was reality. And Dryya could not deny that there was something rather off-putting about spending one moment gasping for air against the breast of her lover, chasing the high of her coming orgasm, and then, without any hint of warning, hearing the voice of the Queen’s husband ring out in the same rather absentminded tone as before, “My dearest Lady, have you happened-”

She could not help herself; she screamed in shock, the sound bursting out of her before she had the chance to stifle it. Both the King and Queen jumped at the noise (pushing the slick tendril the Lady was fucking her with deeper inside, by the  _ gods  _ how was she so deep, she felt stuffed  _ full  _ of her) _ ,  _ the White Lady sweeping a hand up her back while the Pale King blinked awkwardly at her,  _ directly  _ at her, his glassy, unfocused gaze trailing over her bare body and the place where they joined, before looking her in the eyes and saying, still with that air of distraction, “Greetings, Dryya. Fear not, I only seek misplaced tools. Now, love, have you seen my smallest grade of pliers around anywhere? I’m sure that I left them here, they’re nowhere in my workshop.”

He did not seem to be perturbed by the scene he disturbed in the slightest. Dryya gaped at him, caught between shock and frustration, before the White Lady pressed her gently against her chest, and hooked her head between her antenna to stare at her husband, trailing roots still rocking gently (oh  _ gods _ ) inside of her.

“Hello, dear. Are you sure you haven’t checked your other workshop? You leave your tools scattered about every which way, I’m sure that if it’s not in the one you’re currently occupying, it’s lying on the floor of the other.” She punctuated this statement with a gentle curl against Dryya’s walls, the thick tendril brushing up against her sweet spot. She swallowed a moan, caught between the needs of her own body, and the mortification of catching the attention of the two thoroughly distracted gods in the room. “If not, then perhaps ask one of the retainers if they could aid in the search? I know that you’re not fond of people entering your workshop, but they do have an eye for organization that you don’t. I’m sure you’d be able to find them with a bit of assistance.”

Again, the Lady’s root shifted within her, fucking deeper before finding that same slow, sweet rhythm as she conversed with her husband. Dryya stifled another embarrassed moan, then bit the edge of her lip; that filling pressure was starting to get to her, her racing heart only tightening her grip around the Lady’s tendril, and oh, oh  _ fuck  _ she knew that feeling, she knew-

_ Oh by the Wastes, she was close, oh gods no not with the King so near- _

The King’s mandibles scrunched, doubtlessly displeased at the thought of outsiders trespassing within his territory, but Dryya had had enough. With a voice that only shook a little bit (which was no small feat; she felt as if she was about to fall apart, one of the Queen’s tendrils kneading gently against her sweet spot, the pressure sending waves of pleasure up against the coiling tension threatening to snap), and held only the slightest bit of ire about her situation, she said, “Could you perhaps wait until we are finished? I-we are a little busy right now, sire!”

The King’s blinked at her, as if seeing her predicament for the first time, and the faint glow around his form blushed brighter as his frown shifted from displeasure to something far more confused, as if he wasn’t quite sure what all the fuss was about but knew well enough to not question it. Dryya felt as if her guts were about to leak out of her carapace, she was so embarrassed, but the King seemed remarkably unaffected, and only backed away a bit before saying …”Ah. Yes, of course, my apologies. I shall come back in a little while, then.”

"Please," she choked out, relief sweeping through her; still the incessant shifting of the roots within her did not stop, the Lady glancing between her and the King with the same slightly baffled look on her face as her husband. She did not know how much longer she could hold out before the string of tension within her broke, and she did  _ not  _ want the King around asking about pliers when that happened. "Thank you."

“I’ll summon you when we’re finished,” The Lady said sweetly, and waved to him as he swept outside and closed the door; then, with a faint frown of concern, she leaned back and looked at Dryya again, as if seeing her discomfort clearly for the first time. "Oh, Dryya, I'm  _ so _ sorry, I forgot how seriously mortals take their mating habits. I didn't make you too uncomfortable, did I? Do we need to call a break, or-"

"Just let me finish," she said in a rush, before her voice broke into a moan- at any other moment, she might have been embaressed at her lack of control, and at the thought of having to confer with the King later, but her clit was throbbing and the burning pressure within her was at once  _ too much  _ and  _ not enough,  _ and if she didn't catch her relief right this moment, she...she…" _ Please,  _ before I lose my mind."

"If you say so," the Queen hummed; there was still a faintly bemused glimmer in her eyes, but she did not question her any further, her focus shifting back to that maddening, wonderful rhythm. Dryya cried out against her chest as another slick vine coiled around her clit, her hips jerking forward as it rubbed circles into her soft flesh, and that was the end of matters.

At least for now.

* * *

Later, much later, as she accompanied her Queen to the royal chambers, she caught the faint, unmistakable rhythm of someone being fucked, and stopped dead in her tracks before she could see whichever... _ lucky _ bug the King decided to take to bed while he thought his Queen was occupied in her gardens.

(What was worse, perhaps, was that she had somewhat of an idea of who was in the bed, and she held no wish to see him naked. While she had heard the King off-handedly mention the beauty of the Watcher when he thought nobody loose-mandibled was sneaking around, Dryya did not swing that way, and had no desire to see him so...intimate with the King.)

(...Not that she wished to see the King aroused, either. She would leave  _ that _ particular task up to her Lady, thank you very much.)

But the White Lady held no such qualms, and so Dryya watched, bemused, as she entered her chambers, acting as if nothing out of order awaited her. Two muffled gasps of surprise greeted her, one notably more mortified than the other, but that did not deter her in the slightest as she caught the door, turned around, and said, in a tone as light and airy as a spring breeze, "Hello, love- oh, greetings, Lurien, don't mind me-have you happened to see my sapphire brooch anywhere? Dryya and I are about to attend one of the noble's gatherings, and I simply cannot find it  _ anywhere  _ in the Palace."

...Exempt from the norms of society, indeed.


End file.
